Cham.

Enter CHAMONT and BELLISANT.

I did discharge the trust imposed upon me,
Being your guardian.

Bell. 'Tis with truth acknowledged.

Cham. The love I then bore to you, and desire
To do you all good offices of a friend,
Continues with me, nay, increases, lady;
And, out of this assurance, I presume,

What, from a true heart, I shall now deliver,
Will meet a gentle censure.

Bell. When you speak,

Whate'er the subject be, I gladly hear.

Cham. To tell you of the greatness of your state, And from what noble stock you are derived, Were but impertinence, and a common theme, Since you well know both. What I am to speak of, Touches you nearer; therefore, give me leave To say, that, howsoever your great bounties, Continual feasting, princely entertainments, May gain you the opinion of some few Of a brave generous spirit, (the best harvest That you can hope for from such costly seed,) You cannot yet, amongst the multitude, (Since, next unto the princes of the blood, The eyes of all are fix'd on you,) but give Some wounds, which will not close without a scar, To your fair reputation, and good name; In suffering such a crew of riotous gallants, Not of the best repute, to be so frequent

Both in your house and presence; this, 'tis rumour'd,

Little agrees with the curiousness of honour, Or modesty of a maid.

Bell. Not to dwell long

Upon my answer, I must thank your goodness,
And provident care, that have instructed me
What my revenues are, by which I measure
How far I may expend; and yet I find not
That I begin to waste; nor would I add
To what I now possess. I am myself;
And for my fame, since I am innocent here,
This, for the world's opinion!

Cham. Take heed, madam.

That [world's] opinion, which you slight, confirms This lady for immodest, and proclaims

Another for a modest; whereas the first

Ne'er knew what loose thoughts were, and the
Had never a cold dream.

Bell. I dare not argue:
But what means to prevent this?
Cham. Noble marriage.

[praised second

Bell. Pardon me, sir; and do not think I scorn Your grave advice, which I have ever followed, Though not pleased in it.

Would you have me match with wealth? I need it
Or hunt for honour, and increase of titles? [not:
In truth, I rest ambitious of no greater
Than what my father left. Or do you judge
My blood to run so high, that 'tis not in
Physic to cool me? I yet feel no such heat:
But when, against my will, it grows upon me,
I'll think upon your counsel.

Cham. If you resolve, then,
To live a virgin, you have
To which you may retire, and ha-
Το

In

And live cont

Bell. What proof

Should I give of my continence, if I lived
Not seen, nor seeing any? Spartan Helen,
Corinthian Lais, or Rome's Messaline,

So mew'd up, might have died as they were born,
By lust untempted: no, it is the glory

Of chastity to be tempted, tempted home too
The honour else is nothing! I would be
The first example to convince, for liars,
Those poets, that with sharp and bitter rhymes
Proclaim aloud, that chastity has no being,
But in a cottage: and so confident

I am in this to conquer, that I will
Expose myself to all assaults; see masques,
And hear bewitching sonnets; change discourse
With one that, for experience, could teach Ovid
To write, a better way, his Art of Love:
Feed high, and take and give free entertainment,
Lend Cupid eyes, and new artillery,
Deny his mother for a deity;

Yet every burning shot he made at me,

Meeting with my chaste thoughts, should lose their ardour;

Which when I have o'ercome, malicious men
Must, to their shame, confess it's possible,
For a young lady, (some say fair,) at court,
To keep her virgin honour.

Cham. May you prosper

In this great undertaking! I'll not use
A syllable to divert you: but must be
A suitor in another kind.

Bell. Whate'er it be,

"Tis granted..

Cham. It is only to accept

A present from me.

Bell. Call you this a suit?

Cham. Come in, Calista.

Enter BEAUPRE, disguised as a Moorish Slave.

Phil. Here they come.

Ladies. All happiness to your majesty !

Courtiers. And victory sit ever on your sword!
Char. Our thanks to all.

But wherefore come you in divided troops,
As if the mistresses would not accept

Their servants' guardship, or the servants, slighted,
Refuse to offer it? You all wear sad looks:
On Perigot appears not that blunt mirth
Which his face used to promise; on Montrose
There hangs a heavy dulness; Cleremond
Droops e'en to death, and Clarindore hath lost
Much of his sharpness; nay, these ladies too,
Whose sparkling eyes did use to fire the court
With various inventions of delight,

Part with their splendour. What's the cause? from whence

In person they perform'd some gallant acts
The fame of which prepared them gracious hearing,
Ere they made their approaches: what coy she,
Though great in birth, not to be parallel'd [then,
For nature's liberal bounties, both set off
With fortune's trappings, wealth; but, with delight,
Gladly acknowledged such a man her servant,
To whose heroic courage, and deep wisdom,
The flourishing commonwealth, and thankful king,
Confess'd themselves for debtors? Whereas, now,
If you have travelled Italy, and brought home
Some remnants of the language, and can set
Your faces in some strange and ne'er-seen posture,
Dance a lavolta, and be rude and saucy;
Protest, and swear, and damn, (for these are acts
That most think grace them,) and then view your-
In the deceiving mirror of self-love,
You do conclude there hardly is a woman
That can be worthy of you.

[selves

Mont. We would grant

We are not equal to our ancestors
In noble undertakings, if we thought,

In us a free confession would persuade you,
Not to deny your own most wilful errors:
And where you tax us for unservice, lady,
I never knew a soldier yet, that could
Arrive into your favour: we may suffer
The winter's frost, and scorching summer's heat,
When the hot lion's breath singeth the fields,
To seek out victory; yet, at our return,
Though honour'd in our manly wounds, well taken,
You say they do deform us, and the loss
Of much blood that way, renders us unfit
To please you in your chambers.

Clarin. I must speak

Should not neglect the service of their lovers,
But pay them from the exchequer they were born
with,

Was good and laudable; they being created
To be both tractable and tactable,

When they are useful: but to have it order'd,
All women that have stumbled in the dark,

Or given, by owl-light, favours, should complain,

Is most intolerable: I myself shall have,

Of progress laundresses, and marketwomen,
When the king's pleasure's known, a thousand bills
Preferr'd against me.

Clarin. This is out of season:

Nothing to madam Bellisant, that, in public,
Hath so inveigh'd against us.

Nov. She's a Fury,

I dare no more attempt her.
Peri. I'll not venture

To change six words with her for half her state,
Or stay, till she be trimm'd, from wine and
For any new monopoly.
[women,

Mont. I will study

How to forget her, shun the tempting poison,
Her looks, and magic of discourse, still offer,
And be myself again: since there's no hope,
'Twere madness to pursue her.

Peri. There are madams

pockets,

dare not

Complain in parliament; there's safe trading,

pupil ;

And, when she finds she is of all forsaken,
Let my lady Pride repent in vain, and mump,
And envy others' markets.

Clarin. May I ne'er prosper

But you are three of the most fainting spirits,
That ever I conversed with! You do well

To talk of progress laundresses, punks, and beggars;

The wife of some rich tradesman with three teeth, And twice so many hairs :-truck with old ladies, That nature hath given o'er, that owe their doctors For an artificial life, that are so frozen,

That a sound plague cannot thaw them; but
I give you over: never hope to take [despair,

A velvet petticoat up, or to commit
With an Italian cutwork smock, when torn too.
Mont. And what hopes nourish you?
Clarin. Troth, mine. are modest.

I am only confident to win the lady

You dare not look on, and now, in the height
Of her contempt and scorn, to humble her,
And teach her at what game her mother play'd,
When she was got; and, cloy'd with those poor
As I find her obedient and pleasing,

I may perhaps descend to marry her:
Then, with a kind of state, I take my chair,
Command a sudden muster of my servants,
And, after two or three majestic hums,

[toys,

It being known all is mine, peruse my writings,
Let out this manor, at an easy rate,

To such a friend, lend this ten thousand crowns,
For the redemption of his mortgaged land,
Give to each by-blow I know mine, a farm,
Erect
this in conse-

That pleased me in my youth, but now grown stale.
These things first ordered by me, and confirm'd
By Bellisant, my wife, I care not much

If, out of her own lands, I do assign her
Some pretty jointure.

Peri. Talk'st thou in thy sleep?
Nov. Or art thou mad?

Clarin. A little elevated

With the assurance of my future fortune :

Why do you stare and grin? I know this must be,
And I will lay three thousand crowns, within
A month I will effect this.

And loathing to thy person, thou wouldst not
Force from a blushing woman that rude language,
Thy baseness first made me acquainted with.

Cler. Now saint-like patience guard me!
Leon. I have heard

Of mountebanks, that to vent their drugs and oils,
Have so enured themselves to poison, that
They could digest a venom'd toad, or spider,
Better than wholesome viands in the list
Of such I hold thee; for that bitterness
Of speech, reproof, and scorn, by her delivered
Whom thou professest to adore, and shake at,
Which would deter all mankind but thyself,
Do nourish in thee saucy hopes, with pleasure.
Cler. Hear but my just defence.
Leon. Yet, since thou art

So spaniel-like affected, and thy dotage
Increases from abuse and injury,

That way I'll once more feast thee. Of all men
I ever saw yet, in my settled judgment,
Spite of thy barber, tailor, and perfumer,
And thine adulterate and borrow'd helps,

Thou art the ugliest creature; and when trimm'd

up

To the height, as thou imagin'st, in mine eyes,

A leper with a clap-dish, (to give notice
He is infectious,) in respect of thee,
Appears a young Adonis.

Cler. You look on me
In a false glass, madam.

Leon. Then thy dunghill mind, Suitable to the outside, never yet

Produced one gentle thought, knowing her want
Of faculties to put it into act.

Thy courtship, as absurd as any zany's,
After a practised manner; thy discourse,
Though full of bombast phrase, never brought

matter

Worthy the laughing at, much less the hearing.
But I grow weary; for, indeed, to speak thee,
Thy ills I mean, and speak them to the full,
Would tire a thousand women's voluble tongues,
And twice so many lawyers'-for a farewell,
I'll sooner clasp an incubus, or hug

A fork'd-tongued adder, than meet thy embraces,
Which, as the devil, I fly from.

Cler. Now you have spent

[ever

The utmost of your spleen, I would not say
Your malice, set off to the height with fiction,
Allow me leave, (a poor request, which judges
Seldom deny unto a man condemn'd,)
A little to complain: for, being censured,
Or to extenuate, or excuse my guilt,
Were but to wash an Ethiop. How oft, with tears,
When the inhuman porter has forbid
My entrance by your most severe commands,
Have these eyes wash'd your threshold! Did there
Come novelty to Paris, rich or rare,
Which but as soon as known was not presented,
Howe'er with frowns refused? Have I not brought
The braveries of France before your window,
To fight at barriers, or to break a lance,
Or, in their full career, to take the ring,
To do you honour? and then, being refused
To speak my grief, my arms, my impresses,
The colours that I wore, in a dumb sorrow
Express'd how much I suffer'd in the rigour
Of your displeasure.

Leon. Two months hence I'll have

Cler. Stay, best madam,

I am growing to a period.

Leon. Pray you do ;

I here shall take a nap else, 'tis so pleasing.

Cler. Then only this: the voice you now contemn,

You once did swear was musical; you have met too
These lips in a soft encounter, and have brought
An equal ardour with you: never lived
A happier pair of lovers. I confess,
After you promised marriage, nothing wanting
But a few days expired, to make me happy,
My violent impatience of delay

Made me presume, and with some amorous force,
To ask a full fruition of those pleasures
Which sacred Hymen to the world makes lawful,
Before his torch was lighted; in this only,
You justly can accuse me.

Leon. Dar'st thou think

That this offence can ever find a pardon,
Unworthy as thou art !

Cler. But you most cruel,

That, in your studied purpose of revenge,

Cast both divine and human laws behind you, And only see their rigour, not their mercy.

All blessings hoped by good men, and all tortures
The wicked shake at, no saint left unsworn by,
That, uncompell'd, I here give up myself
Wholly to your devotion: if I fail

To do whatever you please to command,
To expiate my trespass to your honour,
So that, the task perform'd, you likewise swear,
First to forgive, and after marry me,

May I endure more sharp and lingering torments
Than ever tyrants found out! may my friends
With scorn, not pity, look upon my sufferings,
And at my last gasp, in the place of hope,
Sorrow, despair, possess me!

Leon. You are caught,

Most miserable fool, but fit to be so ;-
And 'tis but justice that thou art delivered
Into her power that's sensible of a wrong,
And glories to revenge it. Let me study
What dreadful punishment, worthy my fury,
I shall inflict upon thee; all the malice
Of injured women help me! Death? that's nothing,
'Tis, to a conscious wretch, a benefit,
And not a penance; else, on the next tree,
For sport's sake I would make thee hang thyself.
Cler. What have I done?

Leon. What cannot be recall'd.

To row for seven years in the Turkish gallies?
A flea-biting! To be sold to a brothel,

Or a common bagnio? that's a trifle too!